


Any Given Sunday

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Baz is a kicker, But what if it was American football, Football Player Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, M/M, NFL player Baz, Remix, Super Bowl, but make it American football, gratuitous Tom Brady bashing, loving homage to Local Hero, mentions of food, non magical au, simon works at a pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: A lovingly created homage remix of the first chapter ofBasicBathshebaandbreadofgodincredibleLocal Hero, one of my all-time favorite fics that is so very dear to me. In this remix Baz plays American football and is a kicker in the NFL and Simon still works in a pub in Watford.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55





	Any Given Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Local Hero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045959) by [BasicBathsheba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicBathsheba/pseuds/BasicBathsheba), [breadofgod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadofgod/pseuds/breadofgod). 



> I wrote this a long time ago, when I was trying to wrap my head around the remix format, and then never posted it. I’ve had it in my drafts ever since and only just remembered it as we watched this year’s Super Bowl when my saltiness about Tom Brady surfaced again. It seemed time to finally send it out into the world.

**Any Given Sunday (A Local Hero Remix)**

_THE EAGLES HAVE LANDED: LOCAL PUB SUPPORTS LOCAL HERO_

_By Shepard Clark_

It’s a quiet Monday afternoon in Watford-on-Mummers, Lancashire. Simon Snow, 23, is preparing for the Super Bowl. 

The NFL Super Bowl. 

Not what you’d expect to be streaming on the television screens at The Red Dragon, the pub managed by Snow. 

“Tape delay,” Snow corrects. “Time difference makes the live stream a bit awkward.” He runs a hand through his already tousled hair, face creased in a weary smile. “I stayed up to watch, of course. Wasn’t going to miss that.” His smile turns into a roguish grin, erasing all signs of fatigue, Snow’s bright blue eyes lighting up. “But I’ll not spill on who won. Takes the fun out of the watch party, now doesn’t it?”

American football isn’t typically on offer at all that many pubs in the UK, but The Red Dragon is well-known for its devotion to the sport. 

“Only pub in Lancashire that has the season pass. We show them all–the usual Sunday night games, Monday Night Football, even the Thursday ones.” Snow says proudly. “We get people coming from all around to watch.”

Tucked amidst the brighter colors of the locals’ favorite Lancashire football clubs you’ll find the unexpected midnight green, black, and silver hues of the Philadelphia Eagles. 

Perhaps not so unexpected. The Red Dragon is the unofficial UK home of the Eagles’ most loyal and vocal supporters, led by none other than Snow himself. 

This affection for the Eagles may seem odd at first, but a closer look to the left of the bar gives some tell-tale clues. 

A pennant. 

A flag.

A team poster. 

And in pride of place, framed on the wall, a number 9 jersey with the name Pitch on display. 

As in Basilton Grimm-Pitch, the Eagles kicker, known for his uncanny ability to consistently nail extra points and field goals-the league leader in both categories. 

He holds the record for longest field goal by a rookie. And this year’s league record for longest field goal in regular season play. 

And if reports are true, Pitch is in talks for a three-year, multi-million dollar contract extension that may well make him the NFL’s highest paid kicker. 

Still, it seems an unusual choice of affiliation for a small pub, located halfway between Blackpool and Burnley. 

“Who can resist cheering on a local lad?” Snow says. 

Baz Pitch is most certainly a local lad, having grown up in Watford, playing football (still stubbornly referred to as soccer in the United States) for his secondary school team before being heavily recruited by a number of NCAA Division 1 soccer programs in the U.S., culminating in his decision to attend Stanford, where he led his team to back-to-back NCAA titles. 

Pitch’s golden boot was enough to get the attention of Stanford’s football coach, who had Pitch walk on as a kicker at the start of his second year. 

It wasn’t only Stanford’s football coach that took note. By Pitch’s final season the NFL had caught wind of his prowess at nailing unbelievably long kicks with breathtaking accuracy. 

Drafted by the Eagles as a late round pick, Pitch more than proved his worth in his rookie season, helping his team clinch last-minute victories more than once with his exceptional kicking skills.

The season leading up to this Super Bowl was even more exciting, with Pitch’s field goal in the final seconds of the Divisional round propelling his team to victory. His clutch field goal and five successful extra points widened the margin of victory over the hapless Minnesota Vikings in the NFC Championship game to earn the Eagles a well-deserved spot in this year's Super Bowl. 

And a party in their honor at The Red Dragon. 

“This is Baz’s second year in the NFL, so the locals are still catching up on American football,” Snow says, as he pulls a draft for one of the pub regulars. “Right, Nigel?”

“Don’t know why they see fit to wear those spandex tights,” Nigel, one of The Red Dragon’s old timers, complains before taking a healthy swallow of his ale. “Puts me off my pint seeing those shiny, fat arses on the telly.”

“It’s the shoulder pads I don’t like,” Charlie, another loyal Red Dragon patron adds, with a shake of his head. “We had those in the 80s and they didn’t do nobody any good.”

“Look, it’s not about fashion. It’s for ease of movement and protection.” Snow wades into the conversation as he pulls another pint. 

“Don’t see a kit being any less easy to move in,” Charlie grumbles. “And there’s better ways of protecting yourself than channeling grotty music videos.”

“I can’t make any sense of the game,” Nigel adds. “Yards and downs and such nonsense.”

Snow grabs a napkin and a pen and starts scribbling X’s and O’s in a play formation, football terms spilling from his lips as he attempts to convey the nuances of first downs to his clientele. His patient tone gives one the impression it’s not his first crack at doing this. 

Charlie leans in to take a look. “It’s like rugby then, innit?”

Snow’s eyes light up. “Yeah, a bit, Charlie, see here–” 

“So there’s no reason for all that getup then, plain as day. You don’t see rugby players wearing rubbish like that.”

Snow rolls his eyes but the excitement on his face is hard to miss. He takes this moment to step into the kitchen, where the pub’s cook and co-owner, Nico, is hard at work. 

It’s regular pub fare most days but today is special. Snow wants this Super Bowl watch party to be as authentic as he can get it.

“We’ve got nachos and chili. Chicken wings. Even our own version of Philly cheese steaks, just for today.” His face clouds over for a moment. “No Chex mix or Frito pie. Can’t seem to find the right ingredients for those over here.”

“And mercy on us for that,” Nico jumps in. “You and your Super Bowl snacks. It’s just another game of bad footie, if you ask me, see no reason to make a fuss over it.”

“And that’s why no one is asking you, Nico,” Snow retorts. 

Ebb Petty, Nico’s sister and co-owner of The Red Dragon, smoothly steps in. “It’s nice to change things up once in a while, try something new. We’re proud of Baz here in Watford. I think it’s nice to show our support, have the game be something special. It’s not every day that one of our own is watched by over a hundred million people! Baz puts us on the map.” She reaches up to place a hand on Snow’s shoulder. “Simon’s been a fan since Baz’s Stanford days.” Her gaze grows fond. "Maybe even longer."

Snow rubs one hand over the back of his neck before speaking up. “It’s just good business sense, to cater to an untapped market. There’re a lot of American expats who miss watching the games. The Dragon gives them a home away from home, where they can rub shoulders with other fans and enjoy the games the way they ought to.” He gives Nico a sidelong look. “Snacks included.”

That certainly seems to be the case for Keris Jones, a pub regular and local teacher, who originally hails from Cincinnati, Ohio. “I love watching the games at the Dragon. Makes me think of weekends back home, watching the Bengals with my dad. Dad’s hard pressed to understand how I could possibly cheer for the Eagles now, but it’s all about supporting Baz here at The Dragon.”

Supportive enough that The Dragon hosted the NFL draft day event for the Grimm family two years ago, so they could watch the livestream and their reactions could be filmed and broadcast back to their son, in Chicago for the draft itself.

“It was lovely of The Dragon to do that for us,” Daphne Grimm, Pitch’s stepmother, says when asked about the event. “With four small children it would have been quite the challenge for us to all fly to Chicago, so Basil’s father was the only one who made the trip. The staff truly made those of us here at home feel we were a part of all the excitement, with the livestream. It’s lovely to have so much local support for Basil and his team.”

Dev Grimm, Pitch’s cousin, was at the draft party at The Dragon as well. “It was a right madhouse, half the village showing up to see Baz on the big screen, holding up that Eagles jersey, looking as cool as ever, not a hair out of place.”

“I don’t quite get the appeal of the game,” Niall Kelly, a childhood friend of Pitch’s adds. “But I can’t say I mind the fact that Snow gives out a round of drinks on the house every time Baz scores an extra point or a turf goal or whatever they call it.”

“Christ, it’s a field goal, Niall, how many times have I told you that,” Snow scolds good naturedly, as he serves up a platter of nachos to Grimm and Kelly’s table. 

What Snow doesn’t mention is that he himself was a classmate of Pitch’s.

“From primary school up through secondary,” Penelope Bunce, one of Snow’s closest friends, confides. “Lived just up the lane from the Pitch estate. They’d take the same route to school in the mornings.”

Snow downplays the friendship. “We were schoolmates, no more than that.” He gives a sheepish laugh. “Baz was always top of the class and I was, well, let’s just say I was more the class clown.”

There’s a photograph taped to the bar that seems to belie his words–a photo of two boys in the mud-spattered, purple and green football kits of the local school. 

It’s clearly a youthful Simon Snow, his wide grin instantly recognizable, arm slung over the shoulders of an uncharacteristically cheery Baz Pitch, pictured holding a trophy with both hands.

“That was our last year,” Snow offers. “Best season we ever had.”

The tables are filling up, the scent of spicy chili in the air. Snow serves up another round to Nigel and Charlie at the bar, nods a greeting as the door opens to let in a foursome decked out in the tell-tale green and silver of Eagles fans. 

“Game time,” Snow says. He cups his hands around his mouth and bellows at the crowd, “Are you ready for some football?”

From the cheers that erupt it seems the denizens of The Red Dragon most certainly are. 

Snow’s the last one left at the end of the night, long after the locals have gone home, wiping down tables and sweeping up the remnants of chips and popcorn from the pub’s now sticky floor. 

“They did it. Beat the damn Patriots.” Snow shakes his head, the grin that he’s been sporting for the last three hours somehow even brighter now as he dims the lights and prepares to lock up. “And Baz finishing it off with a field goal–that was the icing on the cake.” 

The lights are off, the doors are locked, but Simon Snow is still basking in the victory. “If anyone could wipe that smug grin off Brady’s face, it’d be Baz.” His own grin is blinding. “Here’s to next season!”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have to tell you that I came up with the idea of using Stanford and having Baz be a kicker and then when I was doing my research and looked up Stanford soccer on Google they had actually won three NCAA championships in a row 2015-17. And the Eagles did win the Super Bowl in 2018, when I set this, and their kicker had those records I gave Baz! (Even though he wasn't a soccer player.) So I think this fic was meant to be.
> 
> (I was sorely tempted to make this a 5 times Baz was a professional athlete and one time Simon was.) (I have a list.) (But it's a one-shot for now.)


End file.
